


Taunting

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bruce Motherfucking Banner, Drabble, Dracy feels, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, M/M, Multi, Tony Motherfucking Stark - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2014-09-13
Packaged: 2018-02-17 05:24:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2298092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired from this prompt on tumblr from otpprompts: <i>Imagine your OTP meeting at a restaurant after Person A gets stood up by their date and ends up eating alone. Person B can be either a waiter at the restaurant or another person eating there.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Taunting

* * *

* * *

_‘You’re such a slut.’_

Darcy Lewis has grown up with those words so ingrained into her mind that they may as well be branded on the chest that causes her greatest pride and greatest hurt – in particularly bitter moods, she’s actually contemplated getting such a tattoo; since apparently the entire world seems to believe them true, surely they wouldn’t mind them being so blaringly present.

She’s tucked into the back of a five-star restaurant she doesn’t remember the name of, seated at an elegant table of pure white cloth and glittering dishes that may actually be _real freaking gold,_ reserved special for eight o’clock sharp. The dainty face on her thin watch reads eight-twenty-three, she’s sitting alone, and the wait staff is beginning to smirk every time a glance is thrown in her direction.

Her dress is black lace and low-cut because he says she should be _proud_ of how she looks _._ Her lips are vibrant, limited-edition Iron Man red because she _likes_ the way his eyes linger on them. Her hair is a dark tangled mess that falls loose down her back and into her smudged eyes because her stomach flips when he leans over to whisper in her ear that she looks _sexy._

_‘You’re such a slut.’_

The waitress that had seated her is approaching, the barest hint of her taunting smile poorly hidden by a faux sympathetic expression that sinks Darcy’s stomach. She should have left already – Jane still has Mint Choco-Chip ice cream in the freezer and Netflix is still airing the Katy Perry movie – but something (sick and pathetic denial, maybe) had kept her seated, kept her waiting, made her look like an _idiot_ because he was going to show up, he had just gotten caught in traffic, had just forgotten his phone, _he is not standing her up, damn it._

She barely has time to register the sight her waitress freezing in mid step, a look of pure shock wiping away her smugness, before a pair of warm, calloused hands fall over her shoulders, a pair of soft lips puffing gentle air as they press a kiss to her temple.

“Sorry we’re late, sweetheart.” She joins the waitress in freezing as Bruce Banner moves into her line of vision, pulling the second chair more to the side of her table before seating himself. There’s a soft smile on his face as he looks at her, brown eyes sparkling madly with the mischief no one ever believes he has. He’s cleaned up since she last saw him in the lab hours ago; cleaned up more than she’s seen him at all. “But you know how easily Tony gets wrapped up in his projects.”

“Pretty sure it was you that had to be dragged away this time, Big Guy.” Darcy’s head whips around as Tony Stark noisily drags a chair from another table to hers, positioning it exactly across from Bruce before straddling it. Unlike the other scientist, Tony’s mouth is twisted in a smirk that only deepens as he signals her waitress to actually _come over._ “You look ravishing tonight, Darce,” he adds slyly.

 “Stunning,” Bruce agrees, and the two men share a look.

_‘You’re such a slut.’_

“What are you two doing?” She hisses to them just as the waitress approaches the table. The billionaire ignores her in favor of rounding on the server, the media mask that sends Darcy’s PR skills for a workout firmly in place.

“Did you even ask my girl if she wanted a drink while she was waiting? Water? That’s the best you can offer your customers?”

Bruce reaches over, grabbing Darcy’s hand for a gentle squeeze. His lips are twitching in fight of laughter as Tony rails the waitress until she’s stammering promises of free food, his thumb massaging circles that are more soothing than they should be.

“You really do look beautiful tonight, Darcy,” he says when the waitress has disappeared to chase down champagne and appetizers and a steer to shoot to produce the freshest cuts for _Tony Motherfucking Stark, here with his partner, Dr. Banner, didn’t you see? And that_ girl? His expression is earnest, and warm, and she blinks at him, speechless, because she's never had an in-depth conversation with Bruce Banner before. “Don’t you think so, Tony?”

“Of course she looks beautiful. If she wants to be.” Tony eyes her for a moment, the usual critical edge replaced by something else. It’s gone in a flash, his nose tilting up in the air comically. “Not as beautiful as _me_ , of course.”

The laughter the escapes from Darcy’s mouth is an edge of disbelieving and hysterical, and louder than it should be from a proper lady in a place like this.

It makes Bruce and Tony smile.

**Author's Note:**

> I absolutely am not turning this into a thing. No. It's absolutely not happening.


End file.
